Viewport width =
August 16, 2010 | by  | in Opinion |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

The rules of engagement

This week kiddies, I ponder the significance of cellular phone innovations in modern society, and the subsequent social, economic and political ramifications of such technological advancements… LOL, jokes. That was a media studies essay.

How to Have a Healthy Relationship with your Mo-billy Phone

(For those of you who have seen the seminal cinematic classic Valentine’s Day, I am not referring to that kind of relationship—thank you, Jessica Biel. Get your minds out of the gutter.)

I had a brief moment of panic just before. Okay, I’ll be honest, it was more of an existential crisis. I was bordering on a soliloquay. I couldn’t find my phone. It was there—then it was gone… Fortunately, I have mastered the art of using the landline to smoke it out. It was under my bed. And there were no messages. Bloody typical.

I should mention here that my social life isn’t so dazzling that your eyes burn to look at it. I’m not getting texts/calls every two minutes. Maybe only every five minutes, but let’s be honest—most texts are from our mums anyway. It’s not so much who is texting you, but the fact that somebody is that’s appealing. We feel loved. In touch with society. I once got a wrong number text that ran something along the lines of “hay sexi, had fun laz nyt, call me babes ;) ;) xo xo”. Awkward. But still, that little flying envelope that lights up on my screen, dancing around excitedly as it announces “New Message”—it just gets me every time.

Somewhere along the line, we became permanently attached to our phones. I mean, not having a cellphone is right up there with not having Facebook. It’s like, totes unacceptable. Essentially, cellphones facilitate communication. You can call people on them, you can text. You can even update Facebook (two birds, one stone). But when did they
become safety blankets? Why are we rendered helpless as babies when we lose them, when our batteries die, and when the Telecom robot lady voice tells us sternly that our balance is less than $5?

I say it’s time for a revolution. This week, I challenge you to leave your phone at home, for one day. It’s not like you get service in the lecture theatres anyway (I’m looking at you, KK303). It’s okay. You’ll survive. There’s actually this thing called talking, that is supposedly quite an effective form of communication. And if you find yourself spouting emo poems at the wall, just think of Hamlet. That guy really had it rough—they didn’t have cellphones back then. No, not even XT.

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. Cuttin’ it with with Miss June
  2. SWAT
  3. Ravished by the Living Embodiment of All Our University Woes
  4. New Zealand’s First Rainbow Crossing is Here (and Queer)
  5. Chloe Has a Yarn About Mental Health
  6. “Stick with Vic” Makes “Insulting” and “Upsetting” Comments
  7. Presidential Address
  8. Final Review
  9. Tears Fall, and Sea Levels Rise
  10. It’s Fall in my Heart

Editor's Pick

This Ain’t a Scene it’s a Goddamned Arm Wrestle

: Interior – Industrial Soviet Beerhall – Night It was late November and cold as hell when I stumbled into the Zhiguli Beer Hall. I was in Moscow, about to take the trans-Mongolian rail line to Beijing, and after finding someone in my hostel who could speak English, had decided